Shuttle Showdown
Episode Name: Shuttle Showdown
Written By: Spider
Cast: Caeli, Cristobal, Donavon, Ghorev, Harris, Havaris, J'qoba, Medes,
Nevaren, Poole, Spider, Stewart, Takamura, Torin, Treal and
Turtledove.
Produced By: Starfleet
Directed By: Spider
Aired On: Fri Aug 08 01:20:27 2003
Stardate: 53418.8
Time: Thu Aug 07 21:10:39 2003
Stardate: 53418.4
Trash has been talked. Bets have been laid. The scuttlebutt has spread on the ongoing friendly rivalry between the station's self-proclaimed premiere shuttle pilots, and now it all comes to this: which one will emerge triumphant? We join our challengers and their audience as Havaris, Medes, and Cristobal come into the holodeck from the Dream Factory, to find Donavon and Harris already there and waiting...
Caeli steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Caeli has arrived.
Spider goes home.
Spider has left.
Treal steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Treal has arrived.
Plopped down comfortably upon the lap of Harris, smiles never falter as friends and collegues arrive to witness tonight's dog fight. Meg leans over once more, planting a firm smacking kiss on his cheek. Whispers warmly drift to his ear before she rises to find an empty seat at the far stands.
Torin steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Torin has arrived.
Cristobal stands near the door, attempting to place bets on the upcoming bout with people arriving. I say 'attempting', because he has yet to find someone willing to bet /against/ Medes. "Two to one odds?" he offers.
Donavon whispers to Harris, "Go get them, tiger."
Stepping into the holodeck, Treal smiles a bit at Caeli, seeking out a seat where they can sit down together. Her gaze travels to take in just all who has shown up to witness the event, and chuckles as Cristobal starts in on the betting.
Torin ducks into the room eyes flickering around curiously checking the ongoings he hrmms surveying those about for the moment reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
Caeli looks at Treal apologetically a moment before moseying over to Cristobal. "Make it five?"
Cristobal arches a brow at the Bolian. "You're offering to bet five strips at two to one or you're asking for five to one odds?"
Caeli clarifies, "Five to one odds. I don't see anyone else betting."
Medes strides in, one hand in Havaris's, the other in the pocket of her black pants. Whereas Harris seems to have opted for his old-school flightsuit -- which gets an approving nod from her, or maybe it's the fact that Donavon's in his lap, hard to tell -- she's opted for all black and a tank top. "So," she notes in Harris's direction, unable to stop a grin from plastering itself over her face, "we meet again. Or something like that."
"Three to one," Nathan counters.
. o O Medes thinks "I am /so/ going to beat you, Robert. Please just don't take it badly when I do."
Havaris ambles in at Medes' side, holding her hand until it's time to let it go. He offers a wave and a smile to Donavon and Harris, chuckling with great amusement at what he happened to walk in on. Approval, as well. "Save it for after the show. It's what I have in mind, myself." He gives Medes' cheek a soft peck and slips away, moving to stand beside Cristobal with folded up arms and a gusty sigh. "I'm tempted to bet against my wife for the sake of my Department. And to, if nothing else, prove the support of so many for her. A costly endeavor, certainly."
Caeli smiles pleasantly back to Cristobal. "Four."
. o O Donavon isn't the least bit feeling caught by headlights. She feels perfectly whole.
As Donavon strides away, Harris comes to his feet and tugs on his uniform. "Indeed," he replies to Medes with just a hint of bravado behind his voice. "The odds are running in your favor in the betting pool, I hear." A pause, and then his eyebrows raise bemusedly, complete open friendliness on his features. "I hope they came prepared to lose their money."
Cristobal ponders that for a moment, then nods. "Four to one. How much do you want to wager?" A shrug and a 'it's your money' look are thrown Kusto's way.
Torin stays quiet at the various events and finally finds himself a nice quiet corner to watch and listen people. Some water he brushes back from his hair looking freshly showered as he watches with furrowed brows and some confusion at all the ongoings.
. o O Harris is confident in his abilities, and has absolutely nothing to prove here. It's all just a big game, really.
Caeli scratches idly at the back of his neck. "Five slips sound about right?"
Cristobal shrugs and nods, "Five slips against twenty it is." He grins and holds out his hand to Caeli.
Caeli smiles right back and takes Cristobal's hand between both of his palms for a few seconds, then inclines his head and walks away. Over to Harris.
Brushing a hand over her skirt, Meg fiddles to get it into place - obviously not used to such a garment. But still, cheeks flushed for some reason or the other, she finds her way to sitting upon a chair and peers about at the various faces. To one is granted a wave. "Mo!"
. o O Cristobal thinks "I wonder if I'm giving too good odds."
Stewart is currently leaning up against a back wall, out of the way, just quietly watching events. As Medes enters, he lifts a hand to wave, and give her a nod, but doesn't head over. Just an ''I'm here'' sort of gesture.
Cristobal nods to Caeli, saying, "Enjoy the contest. May the best woman win. No offense Skippy," he adds with a grin in Harris' direction. Turning his eye towards Havaris, he tries to decide whether or not to attempt to take his boss's money.
Eyes finding Caeli, Harris smirks but doesn't reply to Cristobal's comment. "Let me guess..." he calls to the approaching Bolian. "Don't lose."
The peck from Havaris is returned in kind. One corner of her mouth quirks up slightly and she shakes her head in amusement. "Somehow, I don't think they will be, Robert." Her hand is extended to him, that grin coming back again, open and friendly. "May the best pilot win." No, she didn't hear Kusto speak. Not at all. Watch how much she didn't hear it. At all. When Caeli approaches, she lowers her hand and shakes her head a bit, waiting. Stewart's greeting is thus responded to in kind.
Torin hears his voice and jerks a bit, but notes the voice. He smiles weakly, "Hey Meg.....haven't seen you wear one of those in a long time. Doesn't look horrible." He pauses for a moment and adds as he gets a bit nearer to Meg he adds, "Mmm there's a lot of people here."
Caeli grins to Harris, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder of his flightsuit. "I was actually going to wish you luck and offer my sincerest hopes that the Great Bird will shelter you under its wing. But. 'Don't lose' conveys much the same sentiment, I suppose."
. o O Medes thinks "... betting /against/ me?"
. o O Medes is trying really really really hard not to be very very very hurt.
Cue customary palmface with a seethed intake of her breath. Skippy is the wrong choice of nickname. But Meg isn't long expressing that when Torin finally approaches. Smile lifted, she pats the empty spot next to her. "I don't /ever/ wear these. It was just that /one/ time for the Academy formal."
. o O Caeli thinks "Yep. Bet on her fiancee, Meg doesn't kill me. It's win-win. Unless I lose."
Havaris spends a moment inspecting Medes, shifting his weight a bit from foot to foot. Ahem. "Mmmaybe I should take those odds," Havaris notes towards Cristobal. "Five slips on Thea, four to one?" Kusto grins winningly, fluttering his lashes with much fanfare. "If she wins, we're buying the drinks regardless. So consider it chipping in."
As he turns his attention back to Medes, Robert extends his hand with an apologetic smile. "To the best pilot," he offers lightly, shifting his gaze to Caeli to grin at him as well.
Poole steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Poole has arrived.
. o O Donavon thinks "No matter the outcome, I know who's the best pilot and that one is going to have a most welcoming reception after this"
Cristobal shakes his head at Havaris and says, "Sorry chief. I'm looking to profit here. Accepting bets where I'd be pulling for Robert doesn't help that cause. Drinks I'll buy, but I need winnings to buy them. Check with Zip though. He feels like supporting the dark horse."
Torin smiles softly, "No there were a few other times, there was that party....with what's his face. Mmm he didn't let you leave his side, but you certainly wore a short enough skirt." He shrugs quietly and adds motioning towards HArris curiously glancing to Donavon, "So is that him, Meg?"
Turtledove steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Turtledove has arrived.
Ghorev steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Ghorev has arrived.
GAME: Medes is now set IC.
Medes shakes Robert's hand, then, and offers him a variation on her perpetual broad grin. "You ready to get started?" One of her hands is raised to scratch at the wolf-paw tattoo on her arm. "I've had Isole cook up a variation on this with a spectator's area and such. Just us in our respective shuttles."
Eyes darken in peering over at Torin, long in studying her old collegue. "You must have had that woman confused with what's his face's new girlfriend. I refuse to wear a skirt that exposes your moon to the world." Donavon thwaps her hand lightly at his wrist, moving closer to whisper.
Donavon whispers to Torin, "Yes that's him. And don't you be cruel. Robert isn't like the losers I knew back in the Academy."
"I was born ready," Harris replies lightly, his eyebrows perking yet again as he glances at the crowd. "And no matter what happens now, let's not let it effect later, okay? I think Churchill said it best, really: 'Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.' I value our friendship." His eyes find Medes yet again, still flickering with amusement as he delivers his last comment completely deadpan. "Even though we both know I'm going to win."
Caeli beams, and puts an arm around Treal. Yes, he has StupidFaith. It's fun.
. o O Harris thinks "Now, Robbie, it's up to you to put action behind those words. Let's hope you can do it."
Torin ows and sniffs as he's hit he hrmphs, "No true, when you do it you make sure it's quite noticeable." He smiles quietly though at the whispered words and eyes dance playfully as he adds, "Would I ever do something cruel like that, Megan?"
"Mister Caeli," Havaris begins after a nod to Cristobal, "I wish to assure myself some of your money. Four strips wins me five on my wife, perhaps?" Kusto rubs his hands together briskly for a moment. "I begin to see what Ferengi find so appealing about this whole gambling business. Quite thrilling." Attention turns back to the trash-talking shuttle pilots. "I admire your confidence, Robert." A pause. "Darling, I admire your backside. Try to keep Mister Harris from kicking it, if you would?"
Treal smiles as Caeli sits next to her, and leans into him. "Hmm. So, why exactly are they having this showdown again, Zip? Or do they do this a lot?" she questions him quietly.
Caeli blinks at Havaris' offer, looking more than a bit perplexed. "Uhm. Sorry, sir, but five strips of mine is winning me twenty on Robert. And I'm not necessarily looking to lay out /that/ much money." To Treal, he simply smiles and explains, "Egos. And so that the rest of us can try to turn a few strips of latinum."
"Yes, you would. Dinnae think I never noticed what you told the other faces," explains Donavon, low to Torin. "Now be a dear friend to me and place a bet in Robert's favor." Grin cued, teeth sparkling.
Cristobal is over in Donavon's direction like a bartender looking for a tip. He says to Torin, "Four strips, perhaps?"
Poole wanders in, dressed as a Medes-cheerleader should. Intent on giving Thea all the support she probably wished Poole wouldn't. She moves right up to Havaris' side, nudging him with her elbow. "She ready for a bit of the rough and tumble, then? I had heard she was hurt."
"Me too, Robert. I'm... in total agreement, save that we both know the best shuttle pilot on this station has a shaved head," Medes replies, offering her wolfy grin. "Let's rock and roll." Turning to face the rest of the crowd, she calls, "We're about ready to get started, so if I can get you all to pile into the specator's section... "
Havaris gives Cristobal a faint scowl as he beats him to the kill on Torin's money. He is distracted by Poole's approach, doing a double-take at her with a chuckle. "My wife doesn't get hurt. She just gets better." With that said, Havaris nods slightly, setting his gaze back on the little Engineer.
Ghorev stands nearby to Turtledove, just watching for now, quietly, taking in the bravado and the pre-match 'trash talk' with a light lip-curl of amusement.
Torin blinks his eyes at Donavon, "Meeeee? MUST have been someone else." He shakes his head and snorts, "You wish meg, I've still got use for my money," He winks, "Your bloke ain't got a chance. Then again I've never seen either fly."
. o O Medes thinks "Virescit vulnere virtus. Courage grows strong at a wound."
J'qoba steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
J'qoba has arrived.
It's now Cristobal's turn to scowl. He looks over at Donavon and inclines his head towards Torin, apparently suggesting further prodding on Meg's part.
Eyes meet Torin's, settling in /that/ look - the kind that says don't argue added with a serene smile. "There's a use for your money and this is now. Do as a favor for me. You /owe/ me for that coffee prank." Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Meg attempts to prode her friend further.
Torin hrmphs and snorts, "Even if I /was/ going to bet. No way I'm betting against my boss. That's just asking for trouble. /I/ have to go work with her in the morning. If you want to bet fine I'll loan you some money. But it's not my fault you fall for stupid tricks."
Allowing Medes to take control of the moment, Robert lets his gaze wander over the assembled crowd - apparently it's larger than he expected. When he finds Meg, though, he allows his eyes to stop wandering for a long moment, and then they continue on.
. o O Medes thinks "OH CRAP THE BOSS IS HERE!"
Caeli looks up to Poole and waves with his free hand. "Hi, Gwen. Sitting on the wrong side of the fence?"
"Egos? Oh, that," Treal says to Caeli with a small laugh. "Surprised there aren't more faceoffs like this, then. Competition runs rampant with most races, does it not?"
Turtledove takes in the handshaking preamble to the match, among other things. The crowd, apparently broken into groups, as is often the case, and the people in the groups. She gives Harris a quick smile of encouragement as his eyes roam the crowd, but otherwise remains where she is. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "Looks like we haven't missed anything." She glances at Ghorev, with a grin. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "There's still time to accept my wager."
"Tricks that turned against you. That coffee is /still/ my favorite." Meg chuckles, elbow pushing at Torin before her eyes find Robert's. No words need to be said aloud. There's enough said in looking. And then, when the lock is broken does she lean closer to Torin, intent on getting him to bet. "Sure, go for the boss excuse instead of supporting your friend," she teases.
Ghorev makes a noise akin to a conversational snort. Ghorev whispers to Turtledove, "There's hardly enough time to *think* about your wager."
"Am I?... I thought I was in the spectator area... whatever," Poole moves on up to Caeli, finding a seat, "Why didn't you tell me being bald is so cold?"
Cristobal just sort of waits by Torin & Donavon just in case one of them will be putting any latinum down. He glances over as Poole walks in, and does a double take. His first thought was to try to see where her betting inclinations lay, but noticing the outfit and the head and all, he decides against even trying.
GAME: Medes spends a courage point.
Caeli grins to Treal, "It does. Remember the other night in the fitness center?" Poole just gets a pleased smile before Zip runs a hand over her scalp, and then frowns somewhat. "Because it's not. And you're rapidly approaching the point of Not Baldness."
"I warned you, Gwen, but you laughed it off," Treal says with a mock pout. Sniff. "Oh, right... I kicked your butt!" she says enthusiastically, even if in truth he probably ended up with more points than her.
GAME: Harris spends a courage point.
J'qoba steps into the holodeck and surveys the room. "So is this a free-for-all seating for this racing event?" J'qoba makes his way over the crowd.
Poole sighs, "I thought we finished with that roundabout last night, Zip," she says with a slight sniff, running a hand along her head. "Besides... although I can make -anything- look good... I definately look better with hair."
Torin shrugs at Meg as he watches curiously, "Not my fault your crazy." He hmphs oofing as he gets elbowed. He falls quiet letting the two have their moment before chuckling, "Hey if it was you I DEFINITELY wouldn't bet on ya. I would have cheered for you dear. But I don't like losing much money." He grins lightly.
Turtledove remains amused, commenting lightly. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "I would never ask for more than you are willing to give, Commander."
"Is that so?" Meg proposes with an arch to her brows. "I heard from a reliable source that you conducted a wee bit of gambling when I competed in paresi squares. Or was it another Mo?" Who knows if she really is telling the truth as the two friends jest with the other. "Bet for the fun of it. If it all matters, I'll back your bet if you go short."
Medes moves, then, to her area of the sim, giving Poole and Stewart a brief thumbs-up and a "Virescit vulnere virtus!" -- which universal translators catch and translate as 'courage grows strong at a wound' -- before stopping and /grinning/ widely. "Ha!" Apparently Poole's shaved head amuses her muchly. Ghorev's presence is spotted, and her face pales just a /bit./ Uhoh. THE BOSS IS HERE. Eeeep. Her eyes slide quickly to Havaris, who she offers a broad grin and a wrinkled-up up nose before moving into her simshuttle and sliding into the pilot's chair.
Havaris pokes his toe at Cristobal's boot petulently. Poke. "You're no fun." With that and a grin, Havaris edges away from his Officer and makes his way towards Treal, Caeli, and Poole. The fact that he paces up behind Poole is sheer coincidence. The fact that he takes both of his hands and rubs them all over her bald head? That's not. "I happen to like the look, myself." His head tilts indicatively towards Medes. "And rubbing it is good for luck, you know." His hands retreat with a chuckle, folding behind his back with a clearing of the throat. "Don't hit me."
Turning toward his simulator, Harris is filled with confidence and purpose - one can see it clearly on his face before he settles into his chair and brings his controls to life. Then it's game time, and his face goes stony as he prepares for what lies ahead.
Cristobal laughs at Kusto, sticking around Donavon and Torin a little bit longer in case there's money to be made. He peers over at the fondling of the head and watches to see whether or not someone gets hit.
. o O Harris thinks "Game time. Peace be with you, lads."
Torin hmphs, "I would know nothing of such a thing. No idea who might have made ten strips off your game. Least they didn't have to have you throw the game....or did someone else? I didn't think you were that bad." He grins playfully and shrugs, "I dunno. I worry that if I win I get in trouble for gambling, if I lose I get in trouble for betting against the boss ya know?"
<PROVE> Turtledove has the flaw of Compulsion at -2.
GAME: Turtledove spends a courage point.
. o O Medes thinks "Here we go, Dad. Every success, every failure. Let's hope this is the former."
Poole giggles at the touch of Havaris' fingers, swatting at them. "I can't make bald look as good as Thea does it, sorry..." She waves at Thea, beaming as the woman gets on into her shuttle. Still asiding to Havaris, she says, "I won't hit you... -tonight-."
"Mo did I ever tell you that you worry too much? Where's that spunk?" Meg snort dismissively, foot aimed to knock at his ankle. "There it is. You know I'll prod until you do. Which is better? Not to and endure my endless badgering OR flip a coin to place a bet?"
Torin hrmphs, "Yes, I think you made my console tell that to me every morning. Or at least got someone to do that. Didn't we agree, you have the spunk for both of us?" He hrmphs and ows shaking his ankles and frowning irritably at the woman and hrrmphs, "Bah...fine." He glances towards Cristobal finally and adds, "What was the odds again?" He glares at Donavon, "And if I get in trouble I'm gonna call up your freshman pics and paste them around the station. The one where you had green hair."
Cristobal seems to misunderstand Torin's question, as he answers, "Four strips," trying to stifle his grin.
Ghorev gives Turtledove a 'shhh' gesture and tries to pay attention to the festivities.
Medes powers up her simshuttle and pulls it up to the line for the first event; from the spectator's arena, the 'race track' shows through a large viewport, a simple oval marked with buoys. She waits for Harris to pull up and signal readiness before cueing the countdown to the race's start in their cockpits...
To this does Meg's mouth drop, hanging in shock. "I thought I had all those pictures incinerated. Should have known you'd steal a few past me." Short grumble with a soft fist punched at Torin's thigh. "If you're playing that wild card, I /still/ have the initiation photographs." Eyes lock onto her target with a sinister smirk raised. "Just bet, Mo. You aren't going to get hurt."
. o O Donavon thinks "Much"
J'qoba grunts as he takes a seat at random to watch the race as a smile slowly forms on his face.
Pulling into position next to Medes, Harris releases a long breath before toggling his comm. "Ready when you are," he signals, unable to restrain the grin that boils up immediately afterward - part nerves, part anticipation.
Torin hrmms at Cristobal, "For which side?" He hrms and grins at Meg, "One must always have backups neh?" He slowly reaches for a pocket checking how many strips he has somehow as he glances to cristobal hurrying a bit now."
. o O Harris is convinced that this is absolutely, positively, the most fun that he's had in a long time, and it hasn't even started yet.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Succeeds!
Cristobal says, "You're betting on Lieutenant Harris, I'm betting on Lieutenant Medes," checking the race and holding his hand out.
. o O Medes is nervous. /Very/ nervous. Why? Because of Ghorev. No other reason.
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Torin nods and just hands over the bars even as things starts. And wonders how quickly he'll regret such things.
Havaris grins down at Poole with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I doubt you could ever look as good in my eyes as Thea does, Gwen. No fault of yours, rest assured. Call it a matter of taste, and leave it at that." Kusto's attention shifts back to the shuttles as they lift off and take to their places. "Here we go, then."
The countdown finishes, and Medes cues her impulse engines into life; she's got her most stubborn game face on, all lupine in expression and intent. As her craft speeds off toward the first turn, she gains a bit of a lead on Harris, stubby little fingers tapping at her console, hazel eyes flickering from one display to the next.
Cristobal, who was going to shake Torin's hand, shrugs and accepts the Latinum, saying, "Thanks Meg, I'll owe you one," before making his way over towards Havaris and Poole. He clinks two of the strips together as he smiles gloatingly at Havaris.
J'qoba leans back into his chair and shakes his head with a grunt. "I should have brought something to munch on here."
"Pfff, as if I'd ever try and get between you and that woman," Poole chides up at Havaris before launching into a whooping cheer, followed by, "Go Thea!"
Maybe it was nerves. Robert gets a late start, and attempts to compensate by opening up his throttle past the redline. That, in turn, causes the simulator's computer to chirp. "Warning. Specified manuever exceeds vehicle structural tolerances," it chimes pleasantly, but the alarm only brings a manic grin to the old man's features - he's loving this.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Caeli sighs slightly, but sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles. "Cmon Robert!"
. o O Caeli thinks "It's just latinum, I guess."
"I'll remember that Cristobal," grins Meg, mulling over options in her mind. One last nudge to Torin to get his attention and now she is focused on the shuttle fight.
Turtledove gets one bemused grin in, on the verge of chuckling, as she turns to catch the first few movements of the shuttles, and the apparent beginning of the match. She tilts her head slightly, watching the shuttles begin to engage, smiling blithely, shaking her head gently, eyes twinkling. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "Tsk, sir. Where's your sense of adventure?" It's a joke, and meant in the best possible way.
Nevaren steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Nevaren has arrived.
Takamura steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.
Takamura has arrived.
And into the second straightaway, with everything on Medes's consoles entirely in the green; she gains speed, her jaw set solidly, eyes narrowed a bit as she flickers her gaze from display to display. The grin on her face is more feral than Robert's, a bit more manic. She's enjoying this quite a bit, but she's intent. Stubbornly determined to /win./
J'qoba steps out of the holodeck.
J'qoba has left.
Ghorev gives an idle rolling of shoulders. Ghorev whispers to Turtledove, "I only air it out once a week."
Whipping around the corner, Harris' shuttle gains ground - but it's not enough to offset his slow start. The engines in his simulator begin to howl as they spike beyond where they should stop, but that doesn't matter to the old man. All that matters is the ultimate victory or defeat, and he's not going to lose without a fight.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
And coming around the last turn, Medes pushes a little more power out of her engines, taking them right up to the red, flirting with engine overload but never /quite/ going that far. She doesn't really need to; her initial lead isn't lost, but added to just a little right before she pulls over the finish line. Thereafter, she lets her engines cool and the sim-shuttle slow, waiting for Harris to finish so the second half can begin.
As he crosses, Robert tosses his head back in a laugh before bringing his shuttle to a halt. Toggling his comms when he can breathe again, he sends, "Well done. I think I left my rocket-powered wheelchair at home." There's no animosity in his voice whatsoever.
Havaris watches the race to the finish line intently, eyes squinted up to follow the speeding track and light trails of the racing shuttles. His eyebrows perk slightly at the gain Medes puts into her lead towards the end of the race. "Impressive," he comments to nobody in particular, "both of them. Very impressive. Makes me very glad we have as many shuttles as we do. With pilots like these, those little things can be quite useful in a tactical engagement." He glances about him, takes a moment to note that nobody around him is /really/ likely to care about that point, and then adds hopefully, "Plus, they move fast and that is very neat."
Poole watches in the spectator area, standing near Havaris, Caeli and Treal. "Wow... look at her -go-...," she exclaims, as if Kusto and company aren't already doing so. At the tactical comment, she does look Kusto's way with an indeterminable expression. Whatever is going on in that bald head, she doesn't share, instead returning to watching the shuttles.
Caeli cares! Honest, he does, and he nods solemnly to Havaris' explanation. "Yes, that is very neat. The hole I can feel those five strips burning in my uniform pocket... is not."
Nevaren stands at the rearmost of the crowd, arms crossed against his chest and leaning back against the bulkhead. His entrance must have been a fairly quiet one as he wasn't there one moment, and was there the next. He seems fairly impressed with the degree of skill and display of speed that both Thea and Robert have shown. But that's about it.. fairly impressed.
The entirity of the first half is watched intensely by Meg whose eyes remain upon Harris' shuttle. Hands clench with another, tightening as the vessels speed across the stars in an impressive time.
She stretches her arms up over her head and then shakes out her hands briefly as she waits for Robert. "HA!" Thea's voice comes across the com, then, and she laughs again after a pause, chuckling. "I hear you, old man." Hey, if you can't make fun of yourself in the same breath that you're making fun of someone else... ? "Ready for round two?"
Takamura manages to arrive just in time to catch the exciting finale to the race. Spotting Turtledove, he moves over to stand by her.
Cristobal cheers and says, "In the bank!" After a moment he adds, "Go Thea!" hoping no one noticed the order of his cheers.
Turtledove emits a quiet laugh, still watching the match. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "I wouldn't mind knowing which day of the week that is." She pauses, adding on for good measure. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "And, what you actually do during that time. Generally, speaking." She pauses, her grin turning to a partial wince, as it seems she was rooting for Harris. She glances at Ghorev. Turtledove whispers to Ghorev, "I think it's a fairly safe bet at this point. No sense of adventure required, possibly. For the dog-fight, say." She gives Ghorev a grin, then as Tak approaches, she straightens up a bit, her smile re-emerging for her team-mate after a brief near-neutral period.
. o O Medes is still nervous, but a little less so now.
"Born ready." Harris' slowly shuttle swings around in the darkness as the pilot within powers up the phaser arrays and raises the shields. "Engage at your leisure, Lieutenant."
GAME: Harris spends a courage point.
Torin watches on quietly occasionally nudging Meg back as the two both watch the race with excitement, they might seem almost like children or brother or sister as they constantly nudge when one leans in too far obscuring the other's view.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
Takamura smiles at Tera as he settles in to watch the next round.
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Ghorev starts to reply to Turtledove, but as her posture shifts with Takamura's approach, he settles for a gesture of greeting to the other man. He then focuses his attention on the dogfight.
. o O Donavon thinks "Need to cozy on down with Harris to review tactical systems. Maybe things will rub off on him then."
A soft laugh from Medes, then, and she shuts off the com as the buoys from the race disappear; her craft turns and spins on itself as she powers up her shields and weaponry. The first volley belongs to her, and it skates off away into where Harris's shuttle /had/ been a moment before. A low mutter, unheard by the spectators but visible on the monitors, and a scowl briefly replaces her grin for a moment as she begins defensive maneuvers...
. o O Turtledove feels a tad disappointed, but otherwise mellow.
. o O Medes thinks "GODDAMNIT. I am going to KICK your BUTT, Robert, now... GET BACK HERE SO I CAN!"
Cristobal gets a look of concern on his face as Thea's first shots fail to splash into Harris's simulated shields. He watches intently, the hand with the gold-pressed latinum in it balling up into a fist.
Turtledove regards Tak warmly, her grin a little rueful as she greets him, then she, too, turns her attention back to the starting match, watching quietly.
Twisting away in a barrel roll from Medes' fire, Robert fires his phasers as his shuttle's orientation comes to what he judges is a perfect place to put a shot - but the red-orange lances go wide. Punching in another command, he swings his shuttle behind and over hers in a wide loop - grinning all the while.
<PROVE> Turtledove has the flaw of Compulsion at -2.
GAME: Turtledove spends a courage point.
. o O Harris thinks "Close one. Maybe I have the advantage in dogfighting?"
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Medes's eyes flash and her hands fly over the shuttle's consoles, but she's showing the strain of her recent mission on her face; her stubbornness is evident the way that the Anomaly is evident from nearby space. Except that her stubbornness is not, like, blue and glowy and pulsating. It's just very very visible. She rolls her shuttle to take a shot at Robert as he loops over her, but the maneuver is too tight, and her shots go wide again.
Again, the shots miss by mere meters as Harris stabs at his throttle controls and speeds out the way. Countering with impulse fire of his own, the beams spray out wildly, but fail to find their target. The old man's shuttle opens the gap between the two, angling to get some manuevering room.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
A trickle of a smile warms Donavon's face in edging forward to view this competition. Her shoulder brushes against Torin's, nudging the man out of her way playful like. "They can fly well enough to avoid getting sho-" too late. What Meg was going to say is jinxed by Medes' ability to hit Harris.
"Ha HA!" It's not heard, but seen, as Medes's tight turn ends up with her pushing the shuttle around to pursue Harris as he goes for maneuvering room. The first volley to connect in the dogfight splats against his shields, and she punches it sharply to the side, banking around him in an attempt to avoid counterfire.
As the shuttle rocks under the impact, Robert grunts and heels his helm hard over, sending more fire Medes-way, and again, failing to find his target as she skitters out of the way. "Dammit, Thea..." he grumbles to himself, "I'm a pilot, not a gunner. Hold *still*!"
A cheer erupts as Thea's shuttle nails Robert's...from Cristobal. "Go!" he cheers, as his friend and his financial speculations come one step closer to success.
Poole joins Cristobal in the cheer, though for entirely non-greedy reasons.
Caeli mutters a Bolian obscenity and digs in his pocket for the latinum. "Come /on/, Robert!"
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Nevaren doesn't cheer like everyone else, but the corner of his lip /does/ go up slightly.. It's hard to tell who he is routing for here, if anyone at all.
Her luck doesn't hold with her next volley, however, as Medes fires again and the shots go wide; her jaw is set (though she's still grinning, it looks progressively feral and determined as the event goes on) and her eyes intent. Still, she ducks and weaves after firing, looking to flee counterfire.
. o O Medes thinks "C'mon..."
Corkscrewing once again through the phaser fire, Robert lets loose a rebel yell as he buzzes Medes at a range sufficiently close to be able to look into her cockpit - but she magically vanishes after he rolls, allowing him the pleasure of vaporizing a few particles of space dust. Somehow, that doesn't seem to satisfy him too much.
Havaris watches the dogfight intently, eyes narrowing all the more until he's simply squinting through tiny slits at the battle playing out above. The maneuvers earn a shake of the head, somewhat baffled. The gunnery, on the other hand, that has him smiling slightly. Gunnery he knows. The lancing fire and frequent misses, the more infrequent impact of weapons on shields has him looking exceedingly pleased. "Pretty even dogfight. Looks like Thea's edging him out on Tactical savvy, however..."
Torin smiles quietly at Meg's words and winces, "Mmm I don't know hwo to cheer for." He shrugs and hrmms, "WAy to jinx it Meg. Least they don't hit asteroids like you."
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Donavon smartly snorts at her friend, eyes rolled. "Ye dinnae know how to have fun. I purposely took that shuttle into the asteroid for the thrill of it." Eyes never tear from the dogfight, memorizing each manuever to study for later.
Spider has arrived.
GAME: Spider is joining this location.
Time: Thu Aug 07 23:53:08 2003
Stardate: 53418.7
Spider goes home.
Spider has left.
Torin snorts, "Yeah, watch out. Abby's next trick is teaching you how to surf on the hull of the shuttle." He smirks as he continues watching things going back and forth, "Well either their both really good, or horribly terrible."
Torin is shot a look for even stating the latter. Meg reaches out and raps a finger smartly on his hand. "Always the one to think less of the situation. They're both good in flying that the other steers clear of fire." Then she chuckles, grin forming. "I like that idea though Mo. Surfing on the hull."
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
Torin groans, "I thought you would, your both insane. Mmm well how am I to know? I always thought really good matches were decided really quickly? I'm not exactly an expert on this ya know." He harrumphs as he continues watching though excitedly.
<CONTEST> Harris (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!
"Yes," breathes out Meg between teeth, claming it as an answer to both Torin and the dogfight. Dancing eyes in haste smile over at Torin, then return to watching Harris' shuttle. "Good matches often take longer when vieing against the other's skill. They're neck and neck in this situation, trying to out think the other. It's...fun."
Another shot fired, another shot goes wild, and Medes mutters under her breath as she turns, but then... what's this? Her com comes back on as her console lights up warnings, and she's shouting, with as much humor as she can muster, "That's dirty pool, Robert Harris! You /asked for it!/"
. o O Medes thinks "Shut off MY shields, will you? Well, FINE. Let's see how you like it."
See that? That's a blue fist going in the air, triumphantly. It belongs to one Zipok Caeli, and the grin on his face is unmistakable. It's the 'I might have a chance in hell at winning this bet' grin.
Robert barely manages to evade Thea's phaser fire yet again, twisting wildly to dodge the beams. As she flashes past, the old man's face lights up, and he cries out, "Khan!" while forgetting to fire. With whatever he's realized in hand, he turns to his communications/science controls and works the console, something devious in mind. "Those naughty shields aren't doing you any good, Thea!" he calls back, laughter in his tone.
. o O Medes flares anger briefly, and then stubbornness sets in. Something she takes great pride in is being attacked, and she doesn't have the personal reserves to take it all in good fun.
Treal chuckles a bit at the Bolian next to her, and slips an arm behind his back. "So if you win your bet, where you taking me out to dinner?" she grins at him, eyes twinkling playfully.
Poole is all quiet and smirky as she watches the dogfight. It's the tactics that always get her. How her mind works, when it isn't thinking of hairstyles and other irrational things.
Turtledove's shoulders rise as she gets into the excitement of this more evenly-matched dog-fight. As the tension mounts, she turns to Takamura. "So. Still waiting on little Mauno?"
Cristobal actually gasps as shields are lowered. He sees those four strips and five slips of latinum sleeping away. "Cheater!" he shouts from the peanut gallery.
Torin hrmphs, "No it's not that fun. Well okay maybe it is fun, since don't have to fix the things. Okay I suppose it is. Mmm still. Don't jinx him again, Meg. Besides you find ANYTHING destructive as fun."
Nevaren isn't much of a tactics man. Oh. he's /trying/ to learn but all this stuff is a bit beyond what he learned at the academy. If he wantd to know tactics, he would have gone for command. He just shakes his head.
Takamura watches the match with interest, though he isn't rooting for one combatant or the other. When Turtledove addresses him, he sighs with a nod. "Yes. It seems he wants to make a fashionably late entrance into the world."
. o O Harris thinks "Bless you, Captain Spock... wherever you are."
Havaris watches the weave of the combat overhead, ambling towards a spectator console to monitor the goings on aboard. His gaze shifts upwards for a moment, then back to the console before him with an arched eyebrow and a grin. "Oh, she is not going to like that, Mister Harris, not one bit." His head nods faintly in approval. "Well done." Attention shifts back to the fight above. "Now. Who wants to take odds on whether or not this ends in a boarding action?"
Caeli grins aside to Treal. "As I recall, there's only one restaurant on the station. So unless you want it to be me taking you /in/to dinner..."
Donavon sputters and coughs, fist over her mouth. Eyes say it all - destruction /is/ fun. "Odd how I'm Irish that I end up being a Jinx at times." She chuckles more. "If it weren't for me back at the Academy, you wouldn't have as many projects to learn from." Grin. "Finish her off, anamchara," is called out playfully.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs Harris's Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
Torin ggrins at Don's reaction, but he doesn't even need to look at his friend to know the reaction instead he just hrmphs as she cheers for Harris he adds his own of, "Get him, boss. Show 'em some Grease monkey power." Didn't he bet against her?
Tap. Taptaptap. Medes continues on a slightly lazier course, given that she's not paying as much attention to her flying. No, the sweat is built up on her forehad and her eyes are intent on her console. Once a seires of lights comes up green, she laughs, flipping on the con. "But what good will that do you, Robert, if your weapons are down for diagnostics and... oh... locked out to me?"
. o O Medes thinks "That's what you GET for messing with an ENGINEER!"
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Turtledove nods to Takamura, while watching the match. "How is Jiasha doing? I haven't seen her around so much lately."
As his weapons shut off and lock out, Robert's jaw drops to about his kneecaps for approximately three seconds... and then he turns to his own console. "Well, lessee," he replies to the air. "How about a dose of... ramming speed?" He keys in a command to stop her shuttle dead. That fails. So he enters another sequence, and his shuttle leaps forward on an intercept course - but at least he still has shields.
Takamura asides to Turtledove, to keep his eyes on the interesting turns of events. "She's doing well. Basically trying to stay off her feet at teh moment. Hauling my boy around isn't exactly the easiest thing to do." Grinning, he winks at her.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Succeeds!
"Gotta catch me first, Robert!" is Medes's only response, as she twists away from the incoming craft and banks around, putting space between herself and Harris before starting to coming back in an attempt to open fire on him again. This puts her in ramming range again, of course... just not /quite/ so close.
GAME: Harris spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Harris (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Security) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!
As Robert's shuttle loops around, he smirks grimly. "Can't ram, can't shoot..." he grumbles under his breath, and then he pauses, another moment of inspiration having struck him. As he enters another command, his weapons come back on with a comforting whine. "But I can unlock her locked doors, yes sir." Eyes narrowing in determiniation, he swings around for renewed combat.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Fails!
. o O Harris thinks "And *that* is why you don't mess with Operations! BOOYAH!"
"This is amusing," Havaris calls out to the crowd, "who is watching the shipboard readouts? This has ceased to be a dogfight and has become a dirty-rotten-trick-off. I'm not certain who can be said to be winning, but I /am/ glad they're both on our side." Kusto chuckles brightly at that, looking back at his readout as Harris overrides Medes' lockout of his weapons. "Oh, no." Havaris glances up and shouts rather loudly, for all the good it will do, "GET OUT OF THERE, WOMAN!" At least it's clear whose side he's on as of this moment.
Taking her momentary advantage, Medes fires off another volley, watching her consoles too much throughout and thus not putting enough thought into her tactical ministrations. "Damnit," she mutters, watching lights on her console blink as Harris's systems come back online. "Nicely done, Robert. Nicely done." She doesn't declare her intentions this time, just wings off away from him after her last group of manuvers and taps at her console madly.
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Cristobal yells out, "Get your shields back up!" though if he were asked, he /would/ realize she can't hear him right now. Needless to say, the action has enthralled him.
And Harris is right there in hot persuit, holding down the fire button and causing phaser beams to lance out wildly as he aims manually. Either he needs to collect his pension or visit the eye doctor, because he's not hitting anything but vacuum.
"It's a battle between engineer and operations that I must say is thoroughly entertaining." Meg simply grins, amused by the interplay of antics. "Knowing those two, they have a few more cards up their sleeves. No, the game isn't over yet."
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!
. o O Medes thinks "And for my next trick..."
Nevaren ooooohs, his pale eyes catching a few readouts from the shuttle monitoring panels. "
Takamura shakes his head at the battle overhead. "Well, it's a good thing neither of them stands tactical." Grinning, he glances towards Turtledove.
Tappita tappita tappita... and Medes cruises, a wide, wolfy grin on her face. She takes a moment to correct her cap, putting it at the /proper/ 'That was a dirty trick and I know it and YOU started it' tilt. The tilt of a hat can say a lot.
Nevaren says, "Thats dirty play, Harris. Thea will wipe the floor with you. for that." Okay, regardless, it is now known who the assistant engineer is routing for, if not very loudly."
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!
At the same time Thea tilts her hat, Harris' shuttle veers wildly out of control. It's hard to fly something when the ship starts to think that left is now right, and vice-versa, after all. "Oh, no... you *did* not." Two seconds later, the shuttle rights itself, and Harris is back in the hunt.
<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Harris's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
"Your /shields/, Thea." Kusto kicks at his little terminal's stand with his boot, wagging his arms above his head as though to somehow communicate this slightly important piece of dogfighting equipment. The part that lets you not blow up. He takes to hopping up and down in place, as well. "Fix your /shields/!"
"Honest play is reserved for simulations because out In a real dogfight, there is no such thing as dirty play." Meg dips her head at Nevaren. "It's amazing, however, how each is counter reacting. We'd do well to learn these tricks..just in case." Grin and a gasp with a chuckle. "Now that's gutsy out there."
"Oh yes I diiiIIiiiiiid," Medes replies, rolling her little craft tightly and coming back at Harris, banking up and over and letting fly a volley that impacts solidly with his shields. "And it worked, too." Zipping away into the simulated starfield she goes.
<CONTEST> Harris contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Medes's Vehicle Operations (Shuttlecraft) skill and Fails!
Harris flips his shuttle around, letting loose another volley which goes wide once again. As he watches the beam burn into space, a grin crosses his face and he brings his shuttle to a halt. "Okay, you've got me. I yield to your superior piloting skill, Lieutenant." And that is apparently that. "Congratulations on a battle well fought."
Turtledove tilts her head to the side, contemplating Takamura's statement. "It could just be a trick of relativity. The field of comparision may be a bit narrow." She grins.
. o O Medes thinks "BOOYAH!"
. o O Harris isn't depresssed at all. In fact, he's glad - he knows what he needs to work on, and that's precisely what he'll do.
Torin hmms and watches as it comes to an end and he grins at Meg nudging her and raising up his hands victoriously, "I told you gambling was a bad Idea. And told you we'd win!" He smirks haughtily.....didn't he just lose money? Doesn't look like it as he smirks at the woman next to him.
. o O Harris thinks "I'll get you next time, though. Just wait and see."
. o O Medes is /doing a little internal dance./ Yes! Hooray! This is just what she needed after her scaryscary mission with the teeth and the pointyness and the invisible monsters with the shielding and the scaryscary.
Takamura hmms, nodding his head he considers Tera's reply. "That's true. I hadn't thought about that. Plus, it's so much easier to comment from the sidelines than while in the game itself."
. o O Medes feels less doom-filled.
"Or... /shoot him and win that way/! Yes! That's... a perfectly valid tactic!" Havaris ceases his jumping up and down, but still keeps his arms gesticulating for a few more moments. After a moment or two, he glances about the crowd and straightens up more properly, tugging on his jacket with a clearing of his throat and a nod to all-concerned. Right. This lasts only a few moments more before he breaks into a grin, runs rapidly in place, and starts pumping his fist in the air with a loud howl. And when /that's/ done, he straightens back up and resumes propriety.
Poole claps her hands, stepping over to Havaris and patting his back, "Cute, Kusto. Lieutenant was it?" She grins widely at him before letting out her own victory yowl and throwing her hands wide. Then, propriety.
. o O Havaris thinks "Victory... is sexy."
"Hmmm?" Meg's distracted wearing that bemused smile. She's fixated on the lone shuttle of Harris', not sullen but thougtful. "Oh, you owe Cristobal a few more bars I think, Mo. I'd say we're even now." Eyes oddly taken in, trying to grasp two superiors...baying in victory.
Nevaren rolls his eyes. Bajorans.. Yeesh. He lets out a small, restrained chuckle and pushes himself from the wall, letting his arms hang to his sides. And Humans. Woo boy. "Good going Thea." he says quietly, offering a thumbs up over the crowd, and departs the holosuite just as quietly as he entered.
Nevaren steps out of the holodeck.
Nevaren has left.
Torin hmms and shrugs, "For the moment at least Meg." He smiles quietly and swats Meg on the back slightly, "At least go over there. No one should have to leave their ship without their cheering squad." He smiles quietly glancing about to make sure he's all payed up.
Coming to his feet, Robert tugs on his flight suit and trudges out of the simulator, sweatsoaked. Beaten. Beaming? Yes, the old man has a grin from ear to ear.
Cristobal pumps a fistful of latinum and cheers loudly. "Yeah!" he yells. He looks around the spectator area and looks around for a blue head. His narrow and he says quietly, "You aren't getting out of the bet /that/ easily." He shrugs and grins, contenting himself with pocketing Torin's four strips and saying, "Drinks're on me."
She can't help a brief victory howl. It's part of her idiom. Medes equals wolf. It's just how it is. She exits her shuttle, then, and moves back into the gallery, waiting for Harris. Once he comes out of the simulator, the likewise sweatsoaked Engineer proceeds directly toward him and sticks out her hand. "Hell of a dogfight. I'm glad we're on the same side in the end."
Havaris nods aside to Poole, all business now, utterly refusing to acknowledge their mutual outbursts. "Lieutenant Havaris, yes. Commander Poole I believe?" He offers her his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Commander. I was just reviewing the tactical competency of our shuttle pilots aboard. Quite impressive, I think you'll agree." He inhales sharply and nods back towards the shuttles above. "Well, we'd better go do something humdrum and boring before brokering power like Ferengi with latinum at the Senior Staff Meeting, hmm? And draw some names from a hat to decide who gets promoted this cycle."
She doesn't have to be told twice. The moment Robert exits the simulator, Meg hurries ahead to his side, arm wrapping around his waist. There's a grin plastered on her face that raises to his, then over at Medes. "You both gave me something to study this week. Congratulations Thea."
"Yes, yes, a hat. Or we could just put them all in a circle and spin a bottle," Poole says deadpan as she shakes Kusto's hand. Of course, she was never one to keep a straight face for long, and thusly she breaks up into laughing, throwing one arm about Havaris as he waits for Medes.
Torin smiles watching Meg go off he chuckles nodding to Cristobal, "They damn better be thief." He grins and shakes his head quietly. But otherwise settles back to watch the various exchanges of congradulations in quite voyeruism.
Taking the offered hand, Robert shakes firmly. "So am I. If we work together, no one stands a chance against us - especially in the dirty tricks department." His grin grows even broader, if that's possible. "I'll be practicing those things that you showed me need work tonight... and we'll have to do this again." As Meg finds his way to his side, his other arm wraps around her and he adds, rather lightly, "Now, if you'll excuse me... I have a kiss of defeat to claim."
Turtledove looks up at Tak, smiling warmly. Looking back at the main area, the champion's circle, she grins. "This was fun." She looks at Takamura. "Will you forgive me if I have to wander off? It's getting late."
"Thanks, Meg," Thea replies, beaming broadly at the pair. "No /doubt,/ Robert. No doubt indeed. I'm going to take some time to really study that tactical business this week. Good thing I have the originator of a textbook maneuver to teach me how it's done. Speaking of which... " she turns on her heel, then, and raises a fist in victory into the air once she spots Poole, Stewart and Havaris. It's Havaris, naturally, toward whom she bounds, wrapping her arms around his neck and smooching his ridges. "Let's go home. Drinks later. Maybe."
Takamura smiles at the victory cries given off, then looks over to his teammate. "Not at all. I probably should get going myself. Shall we head back upstairs together?"
Spider has arrived.
GAME: Spider is joining this location.
Turtledove nods to Tak, still smiling. "Sure." She offers up her arm to her brother in arms.
"Oh, I like your idea, Commander. Much more demeaning and arbitrary." Havaris keeps a straight face until Poole's cracks, then he too splits into a wide grin and lets out a chuckle. He loops one arm about Poole's waist and gives it a good shake prior to turning to face the two pilots concluding their amicable congratulations. He raises his voice to shout towards Robert, "That was some damn impressive flying, Lieutenant. Almost as though you'd been at it for decades!" When Medes comes his way, Havaris turns to smooch Poole on the cheek. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment...?" He frees his arm and reaches out to snag Medes in a hug, lifting her up and spinning her about once prior to setting her down. He rests his ridges against her nose, brushing them lightly back and forth. "Better idea. Let's go one deck over and load up a shuttle sim. Drinks aren't my primary interest just now. Or home, for that matter."
Meg instinctively curls against Robert, lightly laughing. "Kiss of defeat? More of a," the rest is left to a whisper, drifting into his ear. Mischief dances with delight upon her features, cheeks rouge when she leans back. "I concur with Kusto...damn impressive flying. Care to teach me a few tricks back home?"
